


Fantasize, and Watch the Sun Rise

by turnofthesentry



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Hearing Voices, M/M, Mental Disorder, Multiple Personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-13
Updated: 2011-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnofthesentry/pseuds/turnofthesentry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bob is torn between two worlds; one is in the arms of his wife. The other is in the darkness of his boss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasize, and Watch the Sun Rise

>   
> All my nightmares escaped my head  
> Bar the door, please don't let them in  
> You were never supposed to leave  
> Now my head's splitting at the seams  
> And I don't know if I can
> 
> \- _Welcome Home Son_ , Radical Face

The sun always rose quicker than one would expect; Robert Reynolds, the Sentry, sat atop his Watchtower each evening for two weeks, watching (guarding) the city around him. As always, darkness blanketed the horizon, but as always, the discoloration of the sun's reappearance always took him by surprise.

Lindy always noticed Bob was gone when in the darkness she cracked an eye open and felt no body beside her on the bed. Her muscles would relax, she'd let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Once she'd looked out the window and caught a glimpse of his glow, and wondered how someone could simply sit for hours until the sun came out. Even if someone didn't need sleep, she couldn't imagine it. Then again, Lindy Reynolds was the type of person who always had to bring a book to the doctor's office or the bathtub.

Anyway, she'd stopped questioning why Bob did anything a long time ago.

His light slowly faded until it was no longer noticeable as the sky brightened, and the Sentry stood and gently flew back to his home, entering the Watchtower. Lindy was in bed, curled and asleep; Bob could tell by observing her breathing patterns that she wasn't completely unconscious, but he let her be.

The distance between them was more and more obvious, lately. Bob slept less, despite his promise to Osborn; he didn't want to enter a bedroom that didn't feel like his anymore. He was as in love with Lindy as ever, and he hoped she loved him. He hoped. A lot of time had passed since their first date as young, hopeful college students, years since their wedding and the feeling of his hand running through her soft, brown hair (since dyed blonde, though Bob didn't know what had inspired the change). How much time had passed since the last time they'd kissed?

Head down, he stepped into the common kitchen of the Avengers tower, walking toward the fridge out of habit before remembering he wasn't here to bring Lindy a glass of milk.

The room was still dark, swathed with shadow. Bob swallowed, and poured a glass of water for himself. There was a heavy sensation in his chest, an ominous weight to the air that made him feel he was being watched and more alone, simultaneously.

"You can't be here," he murmured quietly, eyes closed. "We made a deal."

It wasn't the Void. The Void wasn't here, of course. The Void wasn't real, except he was, but he wasn't, it was just Bob the whole time. He was just making things up again, imagining personalities and making excuses. As long as he believed, he could control his thoughts. They were _his_ thoughts.

Still -- fingers flew to his forehead, digging at the roots of his hair. He gasped, dropping his water and not hearing the glass shatter.

Don't you love her, Bob? Do you still love your wife? Bob's gaze darkened, and he nodded mutely, still panting for air. He was on his knees, tugging his hair, ripping at his skin.

 _I do I do I do I love her, I love Lindy so much, I am nothing without her, she--_

The whisper taunted, You don't love _only_ her, do you? We did make a deal, Robbie. I don't touch her and I _won't_ touch her -- but you're cheating, you're _lying_. You can't protect everyone from me. You want to abandon your one last anchor to self-assurance, be my guest. But you _can't have both._

"No no no." Bob sobbed into his hands, speaking into the empty room. His skin felt hot, like he were giving off the heat of the billion suns he derived power from. "It's not like that. I don't luh-- I love Lindy, you can't take her, I won't let you, you can't hurt him--"

Were he a normal man, his frantic clawing, nails neatly clipped, would surely have tore into his skin and left behind bloody furrows that would later fade into pale, neat scars. He'd seen traces of such mutilation on Norman's face before -- thin tracks along his cheeks that would ordinarily be invisible to anyone not looking for them. But Bob watched Norman a lot; he followed him, he listened to him, he stood by him as his guard and soldier. More than anything else, he trusted him. He thought about him all the time, all the time he wasn't trying to remind both himself and his wife about how they were all each other had.

The Void, or whomever's voice he was hearing (it must have just been his own) was right about one thing: Lindy was the one last thread that connected him to humanity. He didn't know what would happen to him without her. He didn't want to think about it. When he thought about her although he felt sad, he also felt stronger, he felt important, and always looked for the light behind her shy smiles, behind her eyes.

Norman, on the other hand, was… Bob saw hope when he thought of Norman. He felt human, he felt safe, and he felt respected. To Norman he mattered, and that kind of acceptance was something the halls of Avengers tower had never offered the Sentry before. All the same, he was afraid. The Void had disappeared once he and Norman had spoken, at least to Bob's awareness, but the claustrophobic sensation of not being alone in a room had never faded. Sometimes looking at Norman's face Bob was afraid he would see something or someone else behind those eyes, a darkness that was inescapable and drifted behind all of Norman's words and lurked behind him like a shadow.

 _That's not true. Norman's protected me. It's not just Lindy, Norman can also keep the Void away. I trust her. I trust him. And you're not real._

It's your infidelity that betrays you, Robbie. You just can't make up your mind. You can't be trusted. If you can't decide what you want how are you supposed to get rid of me?

"B-because--"

Have you forgotten who I am? Osborn is right, there is no Void. Only your sins, your regrets, your lies. I'm your _soul_. The Void is _you_ , Bob, and _you're_ real, aren't you?

Bob's vision grayed as his throat continued to spasm with his hyperventilations. His hands darted out, brushing against glass and water.

He did feel guilty; maybe that was what this whole thing was about after all. He wasn't hearing the Void, he was hearing his own doubts put to words. He couldn't ignore the impulses he'd occasionally felt, fleeting desires to take Norman's hands in his own and feel the thrum of Norman's pulse through his long sturdy fingers -- built both for handling chemicals and throwing punches. Sometimes their eyes would meet and both men would hold the gaze until interrupted; Norman's were a cold shade of blue that caught the light easily and could look green at any given moment. Lindy's eyes, to Bob, were unparalleled in beauty, but he had never seen in hers the activity he saw in Norman's.

The accusatory thoughts quieted, confirming that they had been his own all along. He didn't move from the floor, still clutching his face and breathing fast and hard.

"Bob?"

He opened his eyes and saw, blearily, Norman standing above him. His eyebrows were arched, not in concern but in confusion, as he looked down at the crumpled powerhouse before him. He offered his hand, and Bob gladly took it.

"You need to be careful," Norman said briskly, brushing loose strands of hair from Bob's face once he was standing. Bob noted the inch height difference between them that forced Norman's eyes to flick upwards so slightly to meet his own. "Had I not found you it might have been Hawkeye or Ms. Marvel, and that would be a bitch to pick up after. They swarm weakness like hungry dogs."

Bob opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't muster a voice. Instead he nodded mutely, dropping his gaze to the floor. Before Norman could withdraw his hand, Bob cupped it within his and held it in place against his cheek. He felt Norman flinch, then relax when no violence came upon him and made no effort to move his hand, watching Bob carefully. This morning, Norman's eyes were looking very green.

"Bob. Is everything all right?" He asked, shifting his gaze from Bob's eyes to their interlocked hands. His tone was only mildly impatient, concern and quizzicality taking the forefront. Bob's grip faltered, causing Norman's knuckle to gently graze his lower lip. He didn't move, frozen like a frightened deer until he met Norman's expectant eyes again -- just for a moment. He closed his eyes and placed a careful kiss on the back of Norman's hand, before letting it go and briskly turning.

"No," he murmured, walking quickly back to the solitude of the Watchtower, cape fanning out behind him.


End file.
